


LoKtober Day 6 - Hunter and Hunted

by hedjeroo



Category: Legacy of Kain
Genre: Animal Death, Gen, LoKtober, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27658115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hedjeroo/pseuds/hedjeroo
Summary: A young farmhand returns from his nightly duties to find his world on fire, and learns what it means to be preyed upon by creatures of the night.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 3





	LoKtober Day 6 - Hunter and Hunted

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one-shot written for an art and writing challenge being hosted primarily on Twitter and Tumblr for October, called LoKtober! The challenge was created by myself and skelesass, and other works created for the challenge, as well as the prompt list, can be found on our respective pages on those sites.
> 
> I initially posted this as a Google Document but decided to add it to my Ao3 account for ease of access. There's a couple of perspective flips, but the involved parties are Solus Von Brandt, the young farmhand, and an unidentified troupe of fledgling vampires on the hunt.

They descended so suddenly, quiet as the blanket of night that brought them, and all who dwelled there were ignorant to their invasion. It was not the silent shriek of his mother that alerted him, but the scrambling of claws on wood as the dogs heard the thud of her hastily-drained corpse hitting the floor, and the cacophonous barking that was cut short suddenly with pained yelps.

His father, his uncle, and the other farm hands soon took up iron tools to clash with iron blades. The air grew thick with the cries of man and beast, fearful and triumphant both, with the drums of war beaten upon the dirt with each body that fell. Though stalwart, they were not soldiers: the humans lost ground quickly. Worse still, the vampires came with fire, and they spread it to corral their prey.

Solus had been locking up the horses for the night when the fighting began. Securing the last paddock, he scrambled out of the barn, and found his senses quickly overwhelmed by cinder, by ash, by shouting and screaming, and by a mass of blood and bodies. His stomach reeled and his eyes burned. He couldn't stay here, he couldn't. He wanted to do something, to try and fight them off, but his feet had better sense than his heart, carrying him to the thick brush behind the barn and hearing none of his mind's panicked protest.

Once he reached the brush he tumbled, scrambled to press his back up against the nearest, thickest tree trunk. His palms and fingers pressed into the dirt, and he smeared it across his face and clothing, hands shaking with each stroke. He tried desperately to slow the hard and fast drumming of his heart. He was so sure its beating could be heard, that it would give away his hiding place. He kept his breathing slow, deep and quiet as best he could. Both were difficult when each inhalation brought the terrible stench of spilled blood, and scratched at his lungs with the smoke in the air.

He could not risk giving himself away. He had to wait. He had to wait until the footsteps stopped, until the fires died down, until the shouting and screaming had fallen away and not even a whisper carried on the wind. Only then could he properly gather himself, only then could he figure out what was going on, and why.

\-------

Tonight was to be a veritable feast! They had done well to root out this little farmhouse and the lands surrounding it. It was far enough away from the villages that the screams wouldn't carry, and they could claim their prey before the fires summoned the guard...

It was the perfect practice ground for a group of fledglings learning to siege. And the perfect place to quell a potential uprising amongst the cattle; farmers were notoriously quick to arms. They weren't particularly skilled in combat, most of them lacking training in aught but farming tools, but they were stubborn, and usually strong of will and body.

A little arson and some strategic targeting usually helped nip their courage in the bud.

They snuck into the farmhouse first, prying an upper window open and inviting themselves inside. Foolish for any human to leave a window open at night, they thought, especially when it gave them direct access to the master bedroom. The head of the house must have still been out working, as they found only a woman there, already sleeping.

The eldest of them took first blood. Her claws wrapped quickly across the woman's mouth, jerking her neck aside so she could sink her fangs in. She drank deep of that sweet vitae, relishing it in the quiet moments before all hell would surely break loose. 

It was customary for the leader of such a troupe to take the first kill, but perhaps not to take their time with it. Her second in command hurried her along; perhaps too forcibly, as the body made quite a noise as it hit the floor. Damn floorboards and their thudding and creaking.

That was when the dogs came in, rushing up the stairs, already on the scent of spilled blood and fresh death. Those beasts did not die nearly so quietly, falling to blades. The younger fledglings took to feeding as the elders discussed their next move. It did not take them long to vacate the farmhouse, setting a fire to consume it upon their departure. A brighter beacon to summon the others. They would draw them out, and then corral them into the barn.

The rest of the farmers came as they knew they would, and soon fell to blade, claw and fang. They were no match even for the youngest and most inexperienced of the fledglings, not once their weapons were broken and cast aside, and the smoke began to weigh upon their lungs.

They broke each human and beast, fed well, and left naught but ash and smoke in their wake.

\-------

It felt like he had been there for hours before things finally grew quiet and still. He'd huddled into himself tightly enough, slowed his breathing, and stilled his heart just enough, just enough. He'd smeared himself with mud and ash to mask the scent of fear.

And it seemed as though it had worked.

Solus unfurled slowly, just lying there for a while, gasping more hungrily for breath as the panic began to catch up with him. He desperately tried to push it down again; he wasn't out of the woods yet. He had to see what had happened. He had to know how bad it was. He had to know how much he'd lost.

His breathing steadied after a few moments of struggle, and he slowly, shakily rolled onto his hands and knees, pushing himself up, and gradually bringing himself to stand. His legs almost gave out beneath him, weak from the sickening fear that had welled up in the pit of his gut. The tree he'd huddled against was good support for his first few steps, but he didn't need to walk far to have his worst fears confirmed.

The farm had been razed. Everything was gone.

The barn stood no longer, what timber remained still smouldering gently where it had collapsed. The farmhouse, the coop… even the crops had been set alight.

It was all gone.

One step led to another. And then another, as his footing became sure only by the gravity of his boots finding their rhythm. He tried the barn first, moving through the destruction to try and find some trace of a being or a body---

He let out a sharp yell as a claw came for him, scraping his midsection through his shirt. He barely avoided being gutted, and, in the burst of adrenaline, hefted up a plank and swung it at the assaulting figure's face. There was a sickening crack and a pained cry as it struck their jaw, breaking it, and knocked them to the ground. He wasted no time in reacquainting the fallen vampiric form with that plank multiple times.

Perhaps more than he needed to.

Perhaps not enough.

He looked around for something sharper once he was sure they were out cold. One of the broken timbers had splintered. He wasted no time plunging that sharper piece through the creature's black heart, stamping it through with his boot to be sure it had run all the way through.

He panted from the exertion as the adrenaline began to run dry. The shaking returned to his legs, but he could not let himself collapse. If the farm had been sacked by vampires so thoroughly, and burned to the ground, there could be nothing, no one left here.

The fear in his gut turned heavier, more bitter.

He kept dragging his feet through the wreckage, searching through, trying his best to ignore any evidence of gruesome ends. What would be the point in letting himself die here? He would find something useful in what was left, and move on.

It was all he could do now.


End file.
